


Cold Blooded

by scribblehawke



Category: Left 4 Dead (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, Eventual Relationships, Like one is in his mid to late thirties and the other is early twenties, M/M, Multi, Older Man/Younger Man, Original Character-centric, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-19 10:46:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14872290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribblehawke/pseuds/scribblehawke
Summary: This chapter was labelled as "Reece is left 4 dead disney princess"





	1. Alone

The wind whipped at his back as the young man stumbled through empty city streets. His clothes were caked in blood and dirt, his skin peppered with bruises and cuts. He hissed as another tremor of pain hits him in his side, where a shard of glass had ripped through skin. Maybe throwing himself out the window wasn't the best plan, but it'd been the only one at the time. Besides, zombies weren't known for giving their victims many options. The window or the horde, it didn't take long for Reece to decide.

 

Thankfully nothing had been broken. He hoped. His body could still move, though pain rippled with every step. It was better than being dead. Luckier still, he had managed to keep most of his gear. The pistol he'd collected from a dead police officer that still worked. The few bullets he'd scrounged for kept in his hoodie pocket, the backpack filled with a mostly empty bottle of water and some pieces of bread he'd managed to snatch from a grocery store before zombies ran him out of it. He'd used the last of his bandages on wrapping his hand. Cold water and tightly wrapped cloth was all he could do for it right now. The blood had seeped through. Reece could still move his fingers and that was the most important thing. He'd worry about infections later, for now he needed somewhere to bunker down for the night, as the sun dipped low beyond the horizon, casting long shadows on a dead city.

  
Reece rounded a corner and found himself along a broad stretch of road. Mixed rocks from cracked pavements crunched under his boots. Cars laid scattered, long abandoned by their owners during the first outbreak. Among them were bags, suitcases, things that would have slowed a survivor down. Some things were stained dark reddish-brown and Reece forced himself to look elsewhere. He could still smell the blood thick in the air, hear the buzzing of flies eating away at the bodies. All anyone could do for fallen loved ones was throw a sheet over the corpse and hope zombies wouldn't find them soon. He'd come across those burials when he'd entered the city, as though the dead warned him of what laid ahead. But he couldn't turn back. He was already too far into the city to turn back now, it'd be suicide. He'd just have to find somewhere relatively safe to sleep for a few hours before pressing onward in the morning. With luck, he'd be out of here in no time and making a trail for one of the evac stations. They couldn't be all gone.

 

A crack of thunder sounded in the distance and Reece cursed under his breath before ducking into an alleyway. Rain began to fall, fat, heavy droplets that erupted into sparks against the tarmac as Reece hurried down the narrow path. Within seconds he was soaked through. His hand was stinging and his body ached for rest and warmth. As though to remind him, another surge of wind ran through him. He shivered, pulling his torn up hoodie closer to his body. His clothes had suffered a lot of damage, but all he could really do was use tape and any other bits he could find to keep them together. He'd need something better soon. Winter was creeping in.

 

The alleyway opened up to a small alcove, the buildings overhead blanketing the small space in shadow but doing nothing to stop the downpour. Rusted tin cans and scraps of old newspaper from almost a hundred years ago littered the ground. Out of the corner of his eye Reece could make out a headline; _“_ _Green Flu Virus claims one hundred_ _victims.”_ Another read, _“_ _Green Flu spreading; Where is the cure?”_

 

 _There isn't one_. Reece swallowed thickly as he tore his eyes away to focus on finding shelter for the night. He spotted a door almost hanging off its hinges towards his right. Gingerly he reached out with his good hand to open it, the door creaking with every movement. He flinched and stilled, listening for the telltale signs of an alerted zombie. After escaping the ones in the building, he'd barely come across another one and that worried him. He was met with silence. No shambling footsteps, no heaving gasps for breath, no wet snarls. Reece reached down and pulled out his pistol, clicking the safety off, before stepping inside. Reece turned and kicked the door shut again. The darkness engulfed him, but as his eyes adjusted he could make out the outline of a wooden chair to his left, covered in dust. He pushed this in front of the door. At least if someone came in through here he'd hear them. He hoped.

 

The small amount of heat this townhouse offered crashed over him like a wave. One he'd nearly forgotten after so many nights of not feeling safe enough to light a fire in case it brought trouble. He wasn't sure how long he'd been separated from his group. Days, weeks? He couldn't remember. All he remembered was the stench of death, the demented roars and snarls of the zombies and the screams of his fellow survivors. He had no idea if anyone else even survived. The thought made his body grow cold. But really violence and murder should have been as natural to him as the sky above his head. It just happened, it was how the world worked now that a zombie plague wiped out over half the population, and what was left of the humans driven to madness. Only a handful of people had tried to salvage some type of normalcy by building small communities, since the government had all but abandoned them.

 

Reece yanked his hood down, exposing sweat matted hair and a sharp, angular face splattered with dried blood and flakes of dirt. The air was stale here, but at least it wasn't tinged with the stench of rotten flesh and blood that seemed to follow him everywhere outside. He was standing in what appeared to be a small kitchen area, the stove having been ripped out and left in the center of the room and the fridge toppled to one side, covering the entrance to the living room, the door smashed off completely. Reece climbed over the fridge, careful to avoid knocking his head against the beam above him, before dropping into the next room. To his relief the windows had been bordered up from the inside, as-well as the front door, and that a couch remained. Battered and worn through, but still durable and a hell of a lot better to sleep on than solid ground. Reece shrugged off his backpack, leaving it at the foot of the couch before pulling the safety back on his pistol and holstering it. He fell onto the couch, sighing with relief at getting the weight off his feet. He closed his eyes and ran a tired hand through his short, choppy hair. When he opened his eyes again he noticed that there was a giant hole in the ceiling, revealing the bedroom upstairs. Through the dark he could see the vague outline of the bed upstairs. It seemed to be in decent shape, but Reece looked to his side and saw that the stairs had collapsed. Probably just as well, he felt like he would collapse himself if he tried to get up again. Lying down flat on the couch, his entire body humming with glee at being able to rest after sixteen hours of walking, running and hiding, the young survivor shut his eyes and was asleep within minutes.

 

 

Reece wasn't sure what awoke him first. The harsh clap of thunder, the drumming of rain against the roof or the unsettling silence that followed after. Reece pushed himself up onto his elbows and looked around, his eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. The chair was still pressed against the door in the kitchen, his bag still laid next to the couch, and yet Reece couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. His stomach clenched and cold tremors wracked his frame. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. There was no use panicking if it was nothing. Save the adrenaline for a real emergency. He willed his heartbeat to slow down by taking long, deep breaths. That was when he happened to glance up towards where the hole in the ceiling was.

 

And his heart stopped completely.

 

A figure was crouched right above him. Deathly still and just as silent. Reece could feel it watching him. The thing made a low gurgling sound deep within its throat before hunching forward and dropping down onto the ground. A Hunter. A fucking Hunter of all things. He'd only ever encoutnered one once, and it'd torn through a survivor like someone might shred paper. It only took a few seconds.

The wooden floorboards creaked underneath the Hunter's weight, each groan of woodwork reminding Reece that he was going to die. He was going to be eaten by a zombie, one he was stupid enough to get himself locked up with. Reece tried moving then, inching backwards behind the couch, as though that would save him. Slowly he reached for the pistol still strapped to his leg.

 

“Stay back,” Reece croaked.

 

But the Hunter followed after, mouth slipping open to flaunt blood stained teeth. It made a guttural growl as it stalked towards Reece.

 

The cold metal of the pistol bit into Reece's palm, as though reminding the survivor that he still had a chance yet to live. Swallowing thickly he raised the pistol. Reece's hand was shaking to the point he couldn't pull the trigger. He used both hands to try and steady his pistol as he aimed at the zombie's head, thumb moving to click the safety off. With a deep breath and pinched shut eyes he pulled the trigger.

 

A dull resounding click was all he heard.


	2. Break

His eyes shot open, his blood running cold throughout his body as he realized that the pistol was jammed. Deep rumbling sounds came from the Hunter's chest, its claws dragging across the floor and making Reece shudder. This was it, he realized, he was going to die here.

 

Reece lowered the gun, cold sweat prickling on his skin as the zombie crawled towards him. Instead of lunging and ripping him apart with his claws and teeth like Reece expected it to, the Hunter stopped. Now it was only a few centimeters away, close enough for Reece to be able to smell the sweat sticking to its skin and feel the heat radiating from it. Despite its closeness, Reece couldn't make out a face. Both the dark of the room and the Hunter's wide brimmed hood helped to cast the zombie in complete shadow. In fact, if it weren't for the sheer weight of its presence and the stink, Reece could have deluded himself into thinking he was imagining things.

 

He wasn't so lucky.

 

The Hunter shifted and gave a low rumbling growl before inching closer. Reece stepped away, his back hitting the wall with a thud. He froze, panic clawing at his gut. Glancing between the zombie and the pistol, which now felt heavy and useless in his hand, Reece struggled to think of a way out.

 

A flash of lightning struck. Light tore through the cracks of the bordered windows, briefly illuminating the Hunter. It was a man, with ash-grey skin, rough stubble and the same lack of eyes as most Hunters did. After the lightning the thunder came, a deep rumble overhead, and the Hunter gave a shriek. He recoiled backwards, head dipped low and body held rigid. His claws scraped across the wooden floors, making Reece flinch. For a second he didn't understand what the hell was happening. He'd never seen a Hunter act like this.  
  


The zombie pulled away from Reece and groaned, the sound was almost human. “ _Because he is human, or was, before the outbreak,”_ Reece thought and his stomach rolled. He'd spent so long trying to outrun or kill any zombie that attacked him that he'd never even thought about how they were all people like him once. They still were, just very, very sick people.

 

Reece carefully got to his feet, not remembering when he had fallen onto the ground. He felt numb all over, a thin sheen of cold sweat sticking to him. His heart still hammered in his chest, his heartbeat almost annoyingly loud in his ears. The Hunter had moved away from him, giving Reece space to jump over the couch. The furniture creaked in protest under Reece's weight. The Hunter growled.

 

_Shit._

 

Reece stumbled over his footing and caught himself on his bad hand. An immediate twinge of pain shot up his arm and he hissed. When he stood his vision blurred. Heat rushed to his head and he couldn't breathe. His stomach lurched so violently that he thought he was going to vomit right there.

 

The Hunter crawled closer.

 

A bang tore through the silence. Reece's eyes snapped up to the kitchen area. The chair had toppled over and the door forced open. Standing in the doorway was a zombie. Tall, covered in boils and blood and missing its entire jaw. It made a strangled sound at the sight of Reece, its tongue like a thick slab of meat as it stretched out.

 

_Shit, shit shit._

 

Reece fumbled for his pistol, fingers trembling. Behind him the Hunter was growling, louder than before. But instead of pouncing on him, the Hunter stalked right past Reece. His shoulders hunched back, lips pulled in a vicious snarl. He stopped right in front of Reece. For a minute nothing happened. It was deathly quiet save for the zombie's labored breathing and the Hunter's rumbling growls. Reece took a step backwards and raised his pistol. Something crunched underneath his boot.

 

The zombie screamed and ran for Reece. It climbed the fridge, nails scraping, blood dripping, scrambling to get over. The Hunter shrieked and leaped, colliding with the zombie. They fell backwards onto the tiled floor, hissing and snarling like animals. Reece's stomach lurched at the sound of flesh tearing and blood hitting the floor in wet smacks. Something snapped and one of them screamed. Reece couldn't tell who. He stumbled a few steps backs, injured hand clutching his stomach. He had to get out.

 

Reece spun around and ran for the front door. It'd been nailed shut with planks of wood. He almost couldn't believe he'd seen this as a good thing a short while ago. He shoved his gun back into its holster. His fingers gripped the first plank and he pulled as hard as he could, hearing wet gasps for air behind him. One of the zombies was dying. He didn't care which.

 

The other was going to kill him anyway.

 

He yanked again and the wood groaned. Another pull and he could feel the plank shift. Reece's heart skipped a beat. The nails weren't embedded too deep, this had been a rushed job.

 

Reece could get out.

 

The kitchen had gone silent.

 

His fingers tightened on the plank and he pulled.

 

Behind him came an unholy growl, like a dying cornered animal. Reece froze.

 

The next few seconds dragged on and no other sound followed. Reece swallowed, his heart beating so hard it thrummed in his ears. Despite the clenching in his gut, he turned around.

 

Slumped over on the floor was the Hunter, or rather his outline, body heaving and quiet whimpers slipping past his lips. His leg was bent at an odd angle and whenever he tried to move he hissed and went taut. Reece, ignoring all instinct of keeping away from zombies, crept towards him.

 

The Hunter was resting his weight on his forearms, as though trying to keep pressure off of his leg. Reece peered down at it. The leg was broken, clearly, but he couldn't tell how bad, not in the dark and not with it being covered in grimy torn jeans. The Hunter reached for him and Reece almost pulled away, but the Hunter's fingers merely grazed his leg, clawed fingers curled inwards. Reece frowned.

 

“What?” He said, more to himself than the zombie.

 

The Hunter tilted his head upwards. He didn't even have eyes and yet Reece could feel him staring at him.

 

“What?” Reece repeated. It felt weird to be using his voice so much. “What do you want?”

 

The Hunter whimpered again and Reece couldn't help the pang of guilt that rose in his chest. This was a person once, like him, one who'd gotten sick and twisted into this monster, all because of some virus the government didn't prepare them for. So many lives were destroyed. This man was just one of thousands of victims. Reece crouched until he was eye level with the Hunter.

 

“I'll help with your leg,” He said, then extended his index finger. “If you try anything I won't hesitate to put a bullet in you.”

 

The Hunter growled quietly.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was labelled as "Reece is left 4 dead disney princess"

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave reviews to tell me what you think; whether it was good, bad, just alright or jesus fucking christ what are you doing you madman? 
> 
> Every little bit helps the developing writer :)


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